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This eBook from the Gutenberg Project consists of approximately 366 pages of information about The Refugees.

“You will bid him drive out hither and be at the north-west side postern by midnight.  Let nothing hold him back.  Storm or fine, he must he here to-night.  It is of the first importance.”

“He shall have your order, sire.”

“Very good.  Adieu, captain.  Adieu, monsieur.  I trust that your stay in France may be a pleasant one.”  He waved his hand, smiling with the fascinating grace which had won so many hearts, and so dismissed the two friends to their new mission.

CHAPTER XIV.

THE LAST CARD.

Madame de Montespan still kept to her rooms, uneasy in mind at the king’s disappearance, but unwilling to show her anxiety to the court by appearing among them or by making any inquiry as to what had occurred.  While she thus remained in ignorance of the sudden and complete collapse of her fortunes, she had one active and energetic agent who had lost no incident of what had occurred, and who watched her interests with as much zeal as if they were his own.  And indeed they were his own; for her brother, Monsieur de Vivonne, had gained everything for which he yearned, money, lands, and preferment, through his sister’s notoriety, and he well knew that the fall of her fortunes must be very rapidly followed by that of his own.  By nature bold, unscrupulous, and resourceful, he was not a man to lose the game without playing it out to the very end with all the energy and cunning of which he was capable.  Keenly alert to all that passed, he had, from the time that he first heard the rumour of the king’s intention, haunted the antechamber and drawn his own conclusions from what he had seen.  Nothing had escaped him—­the disconsolate faces of monsieur and of the dauphin, the visit of Pere la Chaise and Bossuet to the lady’s room, her return, the triumph which shone in her eyes as she came away from the interview.  He had seen Bontems hurry off and summon the guardsman and his friend.  He had heard them order their horses to be brought out in a couple of hours’ time, and finally, from a spy whom he employed among the servants, he learned that an unwonted bustle was going forward in Madame de Maintenon’s room, that Mademoiselle Nanon was half wild with excitement, and that two court milliners had been hastily summoned to madame’s apartment.  It was only, however, when he heard from the same servant that a chamber was to be prepared for the reception that night of the Archbishop of Paris that he understood how urgent was the danger.

Madame de Montespan had spent the evening stretched upon a sofa, in the worst possible humour with everyone around her.  She had read, but had tossed aside the book.  She had written, but had torn up the paper.  A thousand fears and suspicions chased each other through her head.  What had become of the king, then?  He had seemed cold yesterday, and his eyes had been for ever sliding round to the clock.  And to-day he had not come at all. 

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